Chapter 8. Long, long time

A/N. The sun has finally risen for Scheherazade… :-)

2003

"You know, you have a special look of yourself, too, and you had it on most of that time at St. Mungo's. I call it the 'I can't believe my luck' look," said Ginny, buttering a piece of toast.

She had eventually admitted she was a little hungry, but did not want to cook, so Harry had brought a tray with tea and toast upstairs. They were sitting cross-legged in the bed, the tray between them, eating.

Harry snorted. "I bet that's how I looked the whole wedding day. It's exactly what I felt."

"Of course you did. It was a special day. All went according to plans, Skeeter's sorry bug arse never got to interfere, everyone was chuffed and we had a lot of fun," said Ginny.

"Your Aunt Muriel wasn't so delighted. Spent all the time complaining about 'terrible fashions', 'no respect for traditions whatsoever', and how nice you would've looked with 'my tiara, a long veil and a proper dress and not one that looked like found at a the bottom of a trunk and then trashed down by a litter of Kneazles'," he said, affecting his voice like Muriel's.

"Bollocks. That old bat was as thrilled as the rest. I know for a fact that she's still bragging at her friends' gatherings about her presence at our wedding," she said, emphasising her words with the butter knife. "And she certainly didn't complain about the mead, she all but inhaled it!"

"Plenty of good memories…" Harry reminisced.

"Tell me your favourite," asked Ginny, chewing a bite.

Harry feigned to be immersed in thought, pausing over his second mug of tea. "Why, of course, George's fireworks."

"Prat," she said, slapping him in the arm and making him slosh the tea and drip it over the sheets. Harry laughed and took his wand to clean the mess. "But you have a point, those fireworks were gorgeous."

"I'll never forget him hugging us, saying how proud of us Fred would've been, having the wedding he would've approved of. And how he ran to change the wording of the sparks before setting them off, and putting a Body Bind on your mother to fulfil Fred's wishes."

"Also, to prevent her from having a stroke at the sight of the fireworks," she said. "I think 'Just Allowed To Shag' was the best."

"Closely followed by 'The Boy Who Got Chased' and 'Mr & Mrs Pooper'," he chuckled.

Ginny nodded in agreement. "Those wedding fireworks are now a money spinner at Wheezes, we should claim a share."

"Nah, your brothers would say that it was George's work and Ron's idea to sell them, it just happened to be at our wedding."

"Ron also had that night the idea for their Feet Fenders, when he saw us dancing. Are you sure we can't at least ask payment for being a source of inspiration?"

"Ask the goblins, they are experts on pricing the most bizarre things. Just don't expect them to give you a quick answer. Took them ages to agree on compensations." The goblins had lifted the ban and let him enter his vault last year, after getting a fat sum from Harry. It had made quite a dent in his gold, which he did not mind, but he still had hard feelings from the years the goblins had treated him like a criminal. He dispelled those thoughts; the ones from the wedding were much nicer.

"And I'm not that bad at the dance floor," he protested. "Besides, you didn't marry me for my dancing abilities." He sipped from his mug of tea.

"No, I did it for your skills in bed," she said, causing Harry to spray tea all over the bed. Ginny rolled with laughter. Harry scowled at her and picked his wand again to siphon the liquid away.

"And I wedded you in spite of your cheekiness, Mrs Potter."

"No, you did it because of it. You have to admit you love it," she said between laughs.

He could not help smiling. "I do."

"I know," she said simply. She changed the topic. "Hey, are the stories over? Did I never cast that famous look of mine on you again, after we got engaged?"

"Well, yes, twice. One, when you were walking down the makeshift aisle on your father's arm. To this day, I still can't recall anything of that moment except your face and your eyes. You could have been wearing a burlap sack and I wouldn't have noticed."

"Oh, I'm sure you would've, afterwards. If only to figure how to undress me as quickly as you did with the dress, when we got to be alone."

"I wouldn't have bothered with a sack. I didn't Vanish the dress because I knew you would want to keep it. Someone taught me that trick," he winked.

"Yeah, I'm sorry I didn't have the same patience. I really liked those jeans," she sighed.

"I still have the shirt, if you want it. No buttons, though. Got scattered when you ripped it open and didn't remember to Summon them," he snickered.

"I'll bear it in mind." She finished her toast and stared at him. "And the last story?"

"Hallowe'en, two years ago. It's weird, because compared to the rest, it wasn't extraordinarily special. But it was unforgettable all the same. Best Hallowe'en to present date, I think."

"How's that so?" she said, picking up her mug.

"We were at the Auror office party, remember?" he said. Ginny's eyes dawned in recognition. "Those two trainees, Langdon and Bellini, were talking to me. You arrived from the toilets and I introduced them to you. But instead of saying 'my wife, Ginny Weasley', I remembered for the first time to say 'Ginny Potter'. And you looked at me with that hard, blazing stare of you."

Ginny smiled. "Now I remember. All of a sudden, you got really nervous and dropped your glass. What were you thinking?"

"Due to our shared history of epic moments related to that look, I expected you to drop a bomb in the form of telling me you had been offered to play in Australia… or that you were pregnant."

Ginny choked on the tea. She dropped the mug over the tray, spraying tea everywhere, and coughed so much that Harry looked around for his wand to cast an Anapneo, which she refused with a gesture. While she was coughing and catching her breath, he patted her back. She straightened at last and looked at the stained sheets, also littered with crumbs. She sighed, picked up her wand and Scourgified them, to little avail.

"It's no use, we will have to change them, there is a limit to what magic can do." She scrunched her nose, not meeting his stare.

"Gin…" he called.

She picked up the tray and made to get out of the bed, but Harry stopped her. The stories were over, it was her turn.

"Ginny, the sun has risen for Scheherazade. Now I believe you have to tell me something."

Ginny blushed. She grinned and finally looked at him.

"Do you remember that day, weeks ago, when we took a stroll on the beach and had lunch from that stalls at the street?"

He did not expect this. "How could I forget? You got food poisoning and were sick for two days. Not even the team's Healer could patch you up sooner. You missed the match against the Cannons, which the Harpies lost, Gwenog blamed you for the defeat and you felt miserable. On top of it, Ron teased you mercilessly. It's incredible how much mess a bad sandwich can cause," he chuckled.

"Yeah, well… turns out the mess was greater than we thought," she muttered.

"Gin, please, you're not one to run in circles. Just spit it out."

She took a deep breath. "Apparently, diarrhoea can affect the absorption of the Contraceptive Concoction. You're supposed to use alternative methods the rest of the cycle, or abstain from coitus."

Harry sat very still, hearing her without daring to say anything.

"We did nothing of the sort," she said.

Harry nodded once. "So, what you're trying to say is…"

Ginny nodded, too. "There's a bun in the oven, and it's not one of your orange and cinnamon ones, Harry."

He did not react at all. Ginny moved closer to him and put one hand in his shoulder, eyes not wavering from his.

"You knocked me up, Potter. You hearing me?"

Harry exhaled the breath he was holding.

"I already knew, Weasley."

A/N. Did you see that coming? XDJ